She used to drag her mattress beside her low window and lie awake for a long while, vibrating with excitement, as a machine vibrates from the speed. Life rushed in upon her through that window-or so it seemed. In reality, of course, life rushes from within, not from without. There is no work of art so big or so small that it was not once all contained in some youthful body, like this one which lay on the floor in the moonlight, pulsing with ardor and anticipation.
Willa Cather, The Song of the Lark
Inspiration comes when it wants. The secret is to sit and wait for it or bore yourself silly. When it does come it is fleeting and it’s brilliant. The moment is more real than any other moment.
I love the early stages of a painting. It’s muddy, sloppy and wet. It’s just a bunch of ground work that makes no sense to anyone and not even me sometimes.
Almostfinnish current news;
Forced lockdown of a city. Militarized police riding tanks in the streets. Door-to-door armed searches without warrant. Families thrown out of their homes at gunpoint to be searched without probable cause. Businesses forced to close. Transport shut down.
These were not the scenes from a military coup in a far off banana republic, but rather the scenes just over a week ago in Boston as the United States got a taste of martial law. The ostensible reason for the military-style takeover of parts of Boston was that the accused perpetrator of a horrific crime was on the loose. The Boston bombing provided the opportunity for the government to turn what should have been a police investigation into a military-style occupation of an American city. This unprecedented move should frighten us as much or more than the attack itself.
Ron Paul
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